


Witness

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29153568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Somehow, he’ll have to find a way to even the odds.
Relationships: Killer/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Witness

“We end up on the same side as you guys too much,” Kid says, crossing his arms, but there’s as much heat in his words as in an iron screw lying in the shade.

Killer would agree, for the most part, but it depends on your exact definition of side, and of too much; it’s fine as long as they get their due and get out of it in enough pieces to reassemble themselves, and for the most part, they do.

“Does it bother you?” says Zoro, and if Kid were still in earshot he’d answer in the affirmative, even though the question’s clearly one for Killer.

“No,” says Killer. “Does it bother you?”

“Not really.”

Killer waits, for some remark about how clearly Zoro and his captain and his crew are better than Killer and his, but it never comes. Maybe Zoro’s not quite that petty; maybe he’s also thinking about all the times they’ve said they’re going to have a rematch of that fight where they were both underprepared and in the middle of other things; his fingers tapping the hilt of one sword almost confirm it.

* * *

They fish over the side of the ship two at a time, far enough above that even when they’re loud the fish will still bite, and the worst (the biggest, the best for cooking) are, they say, attracted to the noise. In Killer’s experience, there’s no real difference, but he never seems to catch very many fish anyway.

“What is with you and Roronoa?” says Kid, leaning back on one hand.

“What do you mean?” says Killer.

“Forget it,” says Kid. “It’s my turn to swap out, anyway--Wire!”

“Yeah, yeah,” comes the distant reply.

Killer feels what might be a tug on his line, but then it slackens. Just the current, probably. Kid claps him on the shoulder when he gets up, and Killer thinks again--what about him and Zoro? Is it that they haven’t really fought? If it doesn’t bother Killer, why should it bother Kid? Maybe Kid’s just messing with him, especially by telling him to forget it.

* * *

Zoro taps his tankard to Killer’s in a toast, his wrist at an odd enough angle to tap his knuckles against Killer’s as well. It’s a brief touch, but Killer feels it deliberately, like it’s bone against bone. It’s not something even Zoro would use haki for, though; it’s Killer’s own sudden oversensitivity. He can’t slurp his drink through the straw fast enough. 

What is with them? What is with Zoro, but what is with him--fuck, how inconvenient. Killer nearly chokes on the last of his drink, lets it fall into a wheezing laugh that his body wants to make, that Zoro knows Killer would prefer if he ignored. He does, and it’s not particularly considerate of him, just comes from him knowing Killer. They’re on the same side too much already, Killer reminds himself. He knows too well he doesn’t really believe it.

Killer taps his empty tankard to Zoro’s, only mostly-empty. The straw spins around the edge until it points down to the deck, and Killer manages to catch Zoro’s knuckles on his own. The toasts have stopped at this point, so there wouldn’t be any excuse to hide behind even if they had full drinks. Was there before? Zoro is looking openly at him; he could pull Killer’s hand back in if he wanted to. Killer looks back, angling his mask to leave no ambiguities. They’re each giving a little at a time, then a little more, like rusty marionettes puppeteered from opposite ends of a stage. 

“Zoro!” The Straw Hats’ doctor runs up to both of them and tugs on Zoro’s sleeve. “You have to come see this.”

Zoro leaves to follow without looking back. Killer looks down at his hand; there’s no mark on his knuckles, but there wouldn’t be. When he touches them himself, the only thing he notices is that his nails are too long.

* * *

At this rate, they’ll see each other often enough, so Killer isn’t worried too much about a missed chance. They have a score to settle, still; that’s enough to hold Zoro’s interest if nothing else. And his own, though he’d just noticed it, like a pot of water suddenly heated to boil, will probably stay there; they’ve remained thus far, after all. 

Killer falls asleep with his heels digging into the web of his hammock, the vision of Zoro with blood on his swords, on his arms, splattered on his face, slicing through his mind.

* * *

The next time they fight together, Zoro’s better than Killer’s memory allows him to be. Or he’s improved, though Killer can still keep up with him and he himself hasn’t improved noticeably. Zoro’s slashes are sharper, his haki more forceful, his breathing easy even after shouting an attack and gouging with all three swords. 

Killer’s got only a vague notion of Zoro having been a bounty hunter at some time in the past; he’d have liked to have known him then, even if he’d been less skilled; the quantity of his slices and stabs, the blood on his swords, the smile on his face--like in the snow in Wano, like Killer seeing his own face, his own thirst for blood reflected in him--would more than make up for that. But the title of hunter has stuck to him, sewn into him, or stuck with blood, years afterward, because it’s obvious still that it’s what he is, before he’s a swordsman or a pirate. He moves on instinct and sense, honed by practice and technique but unteachable, beautiful, and Killer feels as if his throat’s been scraped raw. He fights, too, but he follows; he feels almost extraneous. A witness to this, then, but he’s glad he’s the only one. 

He tastes of blood; the surface of his tongue is rough; he leaves a red handprint on Killer’s shirt and the edge of his shoulder. Killer knows if they were to fight in this moment, Zoro still coiled in the heat of battle like a lightbulb filament brightened to the maximum, that Zoro would win. Somehow, he’ll have to find a way to even the odds.

**Author's Note:**

> HBD Killer <3 I wanted to give him something lighthearted...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
